Friday, January 21, 2011

Shakespeare, why doth thee turn in thy grave?


Growing up, there were very few things that excited me - a reason for a fist fight, water balloons & kites, cotton candy, Winnie the Pooh, a Fair and a NEW BOOK.
Graduating from the Arabian Nights, Fairly Tales, Peter Pan, and Comics to Tom Sawyer, Oliver Twist, Count of Monte Cristo, Famous Fives, Secret Seven, Ghost Busters, Three Investigators, Mr Meddle, Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, Goose bumps, Baby sitters, Sweet Valley High, Calvin and Hobbes, Archie Comics, Roald Dahl's Collections... I always had books around me.
To be quite honest my folks never got me into the reading habit... infact I don’t remember how I started reading. I JUST did. That was it. I guess I didn’t see my first Video Games and Play stations until I was well into my teens... and ofcourse then... You had better things to worry than how many cherries should Pacman eat or How Mario would fight grotesque looking toads or which warrior would invade space... I always needed to get rid of some budding pimple, not to mention curl my hair and paint my toe nails black and shorten my school skirt by 2 inches... who had the time to be glued to a 21 inch screen chasing some ducks and diamonds.
I sought solace in books when growing pains were getting too depressing or when my best friend betrayed me and talked to Charlie, whom I hate or when my mother refused to allow me to pierce my navel. I loved reading... I loved the pictures that were painted by Enid Blyton or Ruskin Bond. My creative side esp when I needed to explain the missing cookies and broken vase was inspired solely by them.
Noticing my passion for reading, my darling daddy bought me his first gift of a book to me - 'The Pilgrim's Progress'. I can't say I read it word for word and understood it. But I enjoyed reading it from cover to cover. From thence, I had my parents blessing to simply read.
So a small flirtation with books blossomed into a 200 odd book collection featuring diverse topics, award winning books and authors and best sellers. Even today, I would love to watch the rain, sip tea and curl up reading. Or forget the rain and the tea.. I would love to simply curl up anywhere and read.
I can’t imagine traveling without a few books in my knapsack, hand bag, in my laptop case and one in my lunch bag. At times, I would be reading more than 3-4 books at a time.
But the sad part is I don’t see this madness or 'craze' amongst the people that I am surrounded by. I have many of my older peers who would always stop at my desk to see what book is decorating it... but the newer souls.. .even if a book swatted him/her in the center of the forehead, they wouldn’t blink.
And not helping our cause is the advent of internet and eBooks... I don’t consider eBooks to be books. I mean, what book has pages that cant be turned and the smell of a new book, ahh! The pages all ramrod straight or dog eared... how can that be forgone? Ok, I will make my peace with eBooks but apart from being the first files to be deleted to make space for music or games or some scrabbling or hacking tools, I have never seen anyone actually read them.
My youngest sister thinks I am ancient. 'A few generations apart', she says. She would love to read only if the TV has conked out and its raining outside and all her friends have been abducted by some alien spaceship and the telephone had been banned and sms is charged 1$ per sms and sleeping is SIMPLY not an option. Phew! Hang in there books.. she is going to read you one day!
But despite all the million diversions provided by Sony and Hutch, reading has survived. Recently I viewed a bunch of Resumes and was pleasantly surprised to see many of the freshers just out of college and entering the corporate grind, claim to have an interest in reading or foster a hobby of reading. Giving them the benefit of the doubt and believing that this is a true interest and not words to ornament their resume and influence the ‘serious’ recruiter, I take solace that perhaps reading will be passed on from this generation to gen X or nexgen.
The fast pace of life, the constant pressure of something new all the time, the non-stop imposition of entertainment, the rapid fire of images and videos, the ruckus called hard rock and core rap… don’t you need a reprieve from all this? A quiet time to see words take over your senses, toy with your mind and conjure images of goblins, elves, romance, incredible sci-fi, mystic Wiccan healings, tiding emotions. A time when patience is growing within you as you turn pages to find out about how Francesca Johnson and Richard Kincaid’s love blossoms, or how the Finch kids make friends with Boo Radley or how Estha and Rahel survived their Ammu’s death. A lot of emotions which people would otherwise never feel in their lifetimes are invoked through a few pages of words. You grow with every story, every quote, every word…
We read to know that we are not alone - C S Lewis
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I recently put down the intriguing ‘Beloved witch’ by Ipsita Roy. She writes about being a witch in today’s times and how witch hunting passed her by. I intend to post some parts of the books that struck a chord in me here sometime soon. Now I am reading ‘Mediocre But Arrogant’ by Abhijit Bhaduri– this is on the same lines as ‘Five point Someone’ by Chetan Bhagat and ‘Snapshots from Hell’ by Peter Robinson.
My favorite books remain: 'Ishmael' by Daniel Quinn, 'God of Small things' - Arundhati Roy, 'Namesake' by Jumpa Lehari, 'The Da Vinci Code' by Dan Brown, 'The Bridges of Madison County' by Robert James Waller, 'The Prophet' by Salman Rushdie, 'Veronica decides to Die' by Paulo Coelho.

Nandini... never forgotten

“Ammaaa…”
Mallini’s eyes flew open. Her heart started to beat so loud and fast in that very instant. She struggled to hurriedly get up from her easy chair. She stumbled in the darkness of her musty room as though she were not familiar with her own room anymore. She opened her room and ran across to her daughter’s room. She flung open the door.
“Nandini…” she exclaimed under her breath.
There she stood in her daughter’s room with one hand stretched behind her on the door knob, the other swinging by her side. Her hair wind blown and wild. Her face hollow and lifeless. Her eyes sunk and tearless.
There she stood in her daughter’s room alone.
The silence tore at her with its claws.
Everything was in its place. Like Nandini never left. The room smelt of some perfume Nandini once wore.
Her bed looked like it was slept in that morning. Nandini loved cartoons characters. Her bedclothes always sported them. Even as she grew out of her teen years and into her early 20s, Nandini never changed. She loved her Winnie the Pooh, Tigger the Tiger and Piglet.
Mallini’s heart fell. Again. It’s been a year since she lost her only daughter Nandini… sparkling, bubbling Nandini with the sweetest smile on earth. Not even her illness had taken that smile off her beautiful face.
Time never heals. It never has. It never will.
Mallini dropped her hand, stilled her wild heart and stepped further into Nandini’s room. She looked at a book by the pillow side on Nandu’s bed. ‘The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe’ by C.S Lewis. That was Nandu. She loved children and loved to save the world. ‘I wish I had asked her how the book was’, she thought. She picked up the book and flipped it open. The page fell open at a book marked section. Nandu had not completed it yet. Mallini felt tears build in the back of her eyes; she felt weak again.
‘God, you took her away before she could complete this book…her life’.
She reached out for support on to the chair nearby. Her hand felt her daughter’s sweatshirt. Her mind sprang alive with fresh thoughts and more pain. She could not move her hand from it. She felt its texture, its cloth… as though it were Nandu herself. She gently picked it up and smelt it. Somewhere she could smell her daughter come home after a game at the tennis court.
She burst into tears. She thought she could cry no more but the tears never stop, the pain never goes away.
She pulled the chair out and sat down slowly onto it. She laid the book down on the table and folded the sweatshirt onto her lap. She looked at Nandu’s table. Like as though Nandu never left. Above her table was her graffiti board. Pictures were pinned up of happier days… happier life… another lifetime. Nandu with Jency and Divya at their Graduation; all in saree, Nandu with little Meena, her cousin, Nandu with Sweta and Sameera, Nandu with Ram, Nandu and Cuckoo the dog, Nandu on the Cruise Ship, Nandu with Harini and Rohini in their school uniforms, Nandu in her car, Nandu onstage during her Karnatic recital…
Mallini wondered where the other girls were. Did they move on? Do they also have these pictures on their walls? Or have they buried it along with Nandu? She remembered another life where she would serve any one Nandu bought home, with iced lemonade and cookies.
She bowed her head down with pain. Squeezed her eyes of tears.
She looked around on Nandu’s table. A writing pad with some notes. A few pens. 3 P.G. Wodehouse stacked on one side. A few A4 sheets. And a coffee mug stain on the table. Was that the last coffee Nandu had in this house? Did she make that coffee for Nandu?
She could bear this no more. She wailed out loud and ran to her room, slamming her daughter’s door behind her. She collapsed on her easy chair… in the comfort of her own safe haven of denial and evasion.
She was so lonely since her beautiful Nandu… Nandini was buried. She never went back to school. At first her fellow teachers and many students dropped by with flowers, fruits, cakes and candy. Eventually they stopped. Her relatives would come with lame words and shoulders. Now that too has stopped.
Her worst hit was her husband. She could not blame him for avoiding her. She knew it herself and he had said so many a times… sometimes in deep pride, sometimes in annoyance – “Your daughter is just like you”. Her baby girl grew up to look like her…
Now he could not bear to remember what he had lost. He had sold his mind and heart to the demons of work and money. He did not keep time for the dead. His dead daughter nor his dying wife.
Mallini was alone amongst the living. Dead but still living. With time and memories haunting her. Her eyes closed with unshed tears at its brim and weariness stinging. Her breathe became slower as her wild mind lay itself to deceiving stillness.
“Amma…”
Mallini’s eyes flew open. Her heart started to beat so loud and fast in that very instant. She held fast to the arms of her easy chair and willed herself not to get up. She squeezed her eyes shut and began a silent pleading sob. Mallini refused to respond to her daughter’s calling.
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Nandini Krishnan, PGDM, B.Com, Smart, Sweet and Sensitive. A close friend and the sweetest person I have ever known passed away on Christmas eve, 2005. She succumbed to a war she was fighting against cancer. But she won the battle.
I will always remember her smile every Christmas. 

Welcoming myself to Parenthood

Dated: April 2010


I have had it with the lack of direct and routine responsibilities, with this carefree living and my not-that-bad figure. Just had it. So I took care of it! I am about 4 months pregnant with what I hope will be a good lawn mower, snow shoveler and errands runner. 
The ride has been… well, extremely bumpy. The guy upstairs has SUCH a great sense of humor. He let me run wild, amok as a shooting-off-the-mouth tomboy more than half my life and then when I get pregnant – gives me every oh-so-typically-female symptom in the book – throwing up (thank God, I practiced hard during my beer ping pong days), fainting spells, acne, whines, mushy tears at diaper ads…. Oh, what a wonderful journey!
I thought the reprieve would come in some form perhaps - the awesome reactions from my family and friends but there’s that sense of humor again! Some of the reactions were: 
- Finally! You were getting so OLDDDD. 30, aren’t you? Hope the baby will be ok and not a monster! (Thanks! I hope ‘hormones’ is a good homicide defense)
- Oh! Were you planning? (No, I tripped and fell on my hubby’s thing and voila!)
- WOW… how are you going to manage? (Child labor ofcourse!)
- Congrats! Surprise was it? Never imagined! (Yes…yes… total mistake this one! We are gonna call it Oops!)
- So you did it! (Gosh, how else?!)
- Nice but were you guys trying? (Nope, we weren’t, our neighbor was)
- Awwww… I hope it’s a girl, so that my son will have such beautiful options [really!] (Yes, why ofcourse… and my daughter will give your gay son the option of wearing her panties on his night out)
- So are you gonna quit work? (yes, life stops for me now… I am going quit my job, cut my cable, electricity and move to the forest and become Amish) 
- I hope you gave up drinking (No, after all until its drinking age, its gonna be manning our bars and after 18 be our expert beer ping pong player)
- What? OMG… Really? For real? Why didn’t you tell me? 3 months? And NOW you tell us? (Oh! so sorry… we should have shared our sex nights schedule and positions with you. Do forgive us!)
Then there are those who immediately reach out and touch/rub/tap/pat your tummy… I mean, really? I am not showing yet and the uterus is much lower than that and yet you have to touch?! Why don’t you touch and rub my boobs too? After all they are sore and tender now! 
Sigh! How much more of all this I don’t know but I knew I was gonna love being here when I saw the little thing’s heartbeat… and then saw it wriggling around and kicking out and moving about… I must admit, it’s something else! Never mind, the bloating, the nausea, the gas (oh the gas!), the expanding waistline & boobs & butt… never mind the lack of energy, appetite or sex … I think I will be very very happy, come this October! 
I am excited & scared but cmon… a little whiny thing… how hard can it be? <gulp>. 
To the moms here - WOW to you. To the ones thinking about it: Pls jump in, I dont wanna do this aloneeee. And to my single friends: You bloody lucky B******!
Much Love,

I am late

I have been starting blogs for over 5 years now. I never see it through. I never post more than 3-4 times. I never keep track of it. 


When will I take my thoughts seriously? How will I remember the thought I did think? Will it always be a 'OMG, I had that exact same thought' moments all life long? 


I do not aspire to be a Carrie Bradshaw or any such soulful or insightful expressionist... I think all I want is to stake a claim to my piece of thoughts floating in Cyber space. 


Simple musings of an idle or procrastinating mind. 


Good luck sticking to this one. But then its 2011... and Hope still floats around - alive and kicking. 


PS: Carnations are so underrated.